I’ve not been spanked since I was a child, but I have spanked every woman I have had a relationship with except one. So I’ve always wanted to understand the mind of someone receiving a spanking - particularly one I’m giving. Writing BDSM erotica has been one way for me to explore that. Here’s a little vignette from what I imagine to be her viewpoint.
“Alright, young lady, you’re going to be punished. Come with me.”
When I heard those words, it made me stop. We were arguing about something - it doesn’t even matter what, and looking back I know I was being stubborn and wasn’t listening. With those words, a cold wave went through my body. It was panic at the beginning, but it changed to guilt. The first thought I had was, “Now you’ve done it.” I could feel my lip start to tremble, and I moved my hands in front of me, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable. He was already walking to the living room of our house. My feet began walking me behind him of their own accord. My mind had no space for anything but guilt and dread and apprehension.
We arrived at the middle of the living room. He turned around. His visage was serious, but not overly severe. All he said was, “Everything off. Right now.” He stood straight with his hands by his side. Instantly my cheeks felt hot and I bit my lip. My eyes were already starting to get cloudy with tears. My hands were shaky as they moved to the hem of my blouse and I pulled it up and over my head. I tossed the blouse over to the coffee table and moved my hands to my right hip to work the snap and zipper on my skirt. I let it fall to the floor and then stepped out of it, bent over and picked it up, holding it in front of myself. I looked back at him. His face hadn’t changed. He merely watched me intently as I did as he commanded.
I reached behind my back and undid the catches on my bra. As the last came apart, the straps flew away from each other and the cups slid away from my breasts. The room air felt immediately cool on them and made me even more acutely aware of my exposure. I let the bra fall down my arms and turned as I tossed it over to the table, hoping to eek just a few more seconds of modesty. Still turned, I reached down to my waist and began to peel my panties down my legs. When they fell to the ground - a pink froth around my ankles - I continued to bend down to unfasten my shoes and remove them. I tossed them towards the table. As I stood back up, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, steeling myself for the final step. I turned to face him again, and moved my trembling hands behind my back. I looked back at him, hoping to see something. But his visage remained unchanged.
This was the point where he always lectured me on why he was going to punish me. I always hated his lectures. It seemed to me to just be a way to delay my punishment, when all I wanted was to get it over with. As he pointed out my misbehavior and how it was harmful and why I had agreed that he should handle it this way, I felt even more childish and small. At one point I closed my eyes, but he ordered me to look at him, and a tear ran down my cheek.
He saw that and I could see him soften just a fraction. “I know you’re sorry, Darling. I am too. But we need to do this so that you learn to avoid doing it again, don’t we?”
I simply said, “Yes, sir.”
“Come over to the side of the couch and bend over the arm,” he said, as he pointed to the left end of the couch. I walked over to where he indicated and bent over the arm of the sofa. The arm was well stuffed and rather high, so with my bottom positioned at the top of the arm, my feet were barely able to touch the floor. I braced myself on my arms, but even so, my field of view was limited to just the bottom, back and right arm of the couch. My bottom felt like it was a mile up in the air and I knew that the way my legs were hanging down that my pussy was easily visible between my thighs. That thought made me flush even more, but I knew that very soon I’d not be thinking about that anymore.
I heard the tinkle of metal as he undid his belt buckle and pulled it out of his pants. I heard him move around and then a moment later, felt the tap of the belt on my bottom as he tested the distance. I screwed my eyes shut and grabbed two handfuls of the couch as I waited.
I heard the faintest whistle of air and then felt and heard the impact at the same time. The noise seemed louder than a gunshot, and the impact tore through my bottom, leaving a scorching burning stripe of pain in its wake. My eyes and mouth both opened and gave birth to an anguished yelp. A second later and a second stroke followed the first and the punishment gained momentum. My first thought was “Oh my God, that hurts.” And then “Oh, I don’t know if I can take this.” And then there were no thoughts anymore. As the belt continued to fall on my ass, all I could do was cry. I couldn’t count the strokes anymore - I had no idea how many there were or how long it lasted. There was just the crying. I don’t even know how long it had stopped before I was able to notice. I just lay limply across the couch while my bottom throbbed with the beat of my heart.
And then I felt his hands rubbing my battered ass-cheeks gently. And then he gently said, “Come here,” and helped me stand up. he wrapped me in his arms and held me tight while I pressed my face into his shoulder and just cried and cried and held him and cried. It didn’t matter that he spanked me, I loved him and wanted him to hold me while I let go of everything. He held me and ran one hand down the back of my head. and kept telling me I was a good girl and that it was all over.
When I calmed down he asked if I was alright, and I said, “Yes, sir.” He smiled and said, “That’s my good girl. Now you can go freshen up,” and he let me go. I went back to our bedroom to wash my face and get dressed again.
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